


The Ring(s)

by loafingdragon, subtleassiduities



Series: Boys will be Embarrassing [6]
Category: Black Clover - Tabata Yuki (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Fake Proposal, Fake wedding rings, French Kissing, Kissing, M/M, Platonic Kissing, Play Fighting, Romantic Comedy, Romantic Kissing, Wrestling, but everyone knows it's fake, dungeoneering, fake engagement, nebulous kissing, nobody knows what's going on with the kisses, proposal, romcom, sibling shenanigans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-16
Updated: 2020-11-14
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:16:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23675242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loafingdragon/pseuds/loafingdragon, https://archiveofourown.org/users/subtleassiduities/pseuds/subtleassiduities
Summary: After finding a useful magic item in a routine dungeon crawl, Nozel's attempts to find it an appropriate owner get blown out of proportion by his friends. For once, however, he likes where things go.
Relationships: Nozel Silva & Fuegoleon Vermillion, Nozel Silva & Fuegoreon Vermillion, Nozel Silva/Fuegoleon Vermillion, Nozel Silva/Fuegoreon Vermillion
Series: Boys will be Embarrassing [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1696627
Comments: 13
Kudos: 127





	1. If It's a Crystal Skull I'm Going to Scream

**Author's Note:**

> Fellas, I'm back on my bullshit! This one was inspired by a Tumblr text post, but it never really came back to reference it. I'll link the post in question at the end of the fic. This is not my best work, but it's cute and fun. It's also an exploration of characters surrounding my favorite boys as they be embarrassing. Critique welcome.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nozel and Nebra take Solid on his first mission as a Silver Eagle. They are not impressed with his performance, to say the least.

The sounds of sandals lightly landing upon the stone ground echoed through the empty hall, bouncing back at them with the volume and energy of nine sets of footsteps instead of three. Nozel led his siblings with a deadpan that threatened with each passing moment to tip into a scowl. From the corner of his eyes, he could see Nebra on his right, keeping in check a smirk, and on his left, Solid, brimming with unbridled excitement. It wasn’t either of their faults that this dungeon was rubbing him the wrong way, but their ignorance to its cartoonish nature wasn’t helping along his impatience to get this over with.

He knew that, really, this was a blessing of sorts. This was Solid’s first mission, and he should absolutely not be irritated that it was going like this. He’d wanted something simple-- something  _ safe _ \--for his newest recruit and little brother. Because frankly, he didn’t trust Solid as far as he could throw him. The fifteen-year-old was impulsive and cocky, prone to throwing himself into challenges he had no business facing on his own. Nozel had racked his brain for a good excuse to delay his admittance into the Silver Eagles, but when the time had come, he couldn’t think of one that would hold up to the voracious tantrum that he knew his little brother would throw. So here he was, a live grenade, strutting around in a Silver Eagles robe. Nozel just hoped that the lessons he’d have to learn would only injure his ego.

Nebra was another story altogether. Her competence had nothing to do with his annoyance with her. She was having a great time. This was a game to her. She absolutely couldn’t wait for the next ridiculous thing that this dungeon threw at him. Solid be damned, she was having the time of her life.

Frankly, if Nozel had to watch another Indiana Jones trap go off, he was going to lose his mind. They had already dodged a rolling boulder, falling snakes, spikes shooting out of the walls, and a pit of crocodiles. Who designed a dungeon like this? It wasn’t old enough to claim novelty at the time of its creation. And these traps were  _ too _ cliche,  _ too  _ by the book for this to be an accident. He had a sinking suspicion that the artifact that they would recover was going to be something just as irreverently cartoonish as the rest of this joke of a dungeon.

To his relief, the walls didn’t start closing in on them before they got to the main chamber. There was still time for that, Nozel reminded himself bitterly, as he examined the magic seal that locked it. The form of a glaring serpent's face stared down at them, its six whiskers branching out and widening to form narrow openings. Unsurprisingly, it required water mages to open. Liquid mercury was close enough; they’d planned to cheat.

“Alright, Solid,” he said, stepping back. Mercury materialized around him, forming long tendrils to match the width of the whisker openings. “You take the left. I’ll take the right.”

“Got it.” He took an animated step forward that was almost a hop. As he lifted his hands, his magic, jittery and bouncy from his excitement, rose around him.

Nozel gave him a beat more than he felt was necessary to steady his water magic. Then on his count, they filled the door’s tubes at the same time. His mercury certainly wasn’t what this door was designed for; it struggled through the narrowest parts of the canals, slowing to the point that Nozel had to force it to keep in sync with Solid. To his brother’s credit, he filled his side of the door perfectly, and as their magic met in the middle, the serpent's eyes lit up. The magic mechanism in the door released with a hiss of steam from the serpent's nostrils-- uneven due to his mercury’s stubbornness to turn gaseous --and the door creaked open.

Solid tittered as Nozel took the lead inside. The room was small for a dungeon of this size; hardly the size of their common room at the Silver Eagles base, with a low ceiling and poor lighting. Nebra pulled out her flashlight and shined it around the room. Gold and silver reflected the light back; to their satisfaction, the room was piled with treasure. Any form of currency seemed in short supply: Nozel saw jewelry, furnishings, statues, lamps, and tools. Had it not been for the brilliant shine of precious metals, this stuff could have been mistaken for storage for some sort of hoarder.

“Look at it all!” Solid cried, taking in the room with wide sweeps of his flashlight. “How will we know what in here is the artifact?”

“Don’t ask stupid questions, Solid,” Nebra teased, gliding past him. “The artifact will have a unique magic signature. Can’t you sense it?” She stuck out her chin and, for the pure pleasure of confusing her brother, moved in the opposite direction of the artifact’s billowing mana. Solid watched her cautiously, unsure whether he was being tricked or helped along. 

With a soft sigh, Nozel strolled farther into the room, his eyes cast on an open jewelry box. Now that they were here, and had faced no serious danger, he could allow himself to have a little fun. There was no point in a treasure hunt where you didn’t take some time to enjoy the spoils. He knelt and examined the jewelry box’s contents. To his delight, these pieces were very stylish: earrings, small brooches, rings and bracelets, all made of silver, with Lapis Lazuli and Amethyst stones. These were things he would wear to a nice party; one at a time of course, he wasn’t tacky. He examined them one by one, and picked his favorite ones to stash away. The kingdom would claim most of this treasure, of course, but there was always some merit in staking claim on a few favorite pieces.

As he rifled through the jewelry, he sensed some weak magic. He cocked a brow and carefully unburied it. At the bottom of the box, shoved unceremoniously into a corner, was a dingy silver ring with a yellow jewel in it. It radiated a passive magic power.

This was interesting. He’d encountered magic items like this before, but usually they weren’t so haphazardly mixed into a collection of non-arcane bobbles. He picked it up and examined it. It channelled magic, he soon realized. Into something. Into what had yet to be seen; he’d have to use it to find out.

He slipped it into his bag and lifted his head as Nebra strolled over. She had several necklaces draped around her neck, and her fingers were lined with rings. As she caught his attention, she struck a pose. “What do you think? It’s a look, right?”

“Oh, yes. Clover Kingdom Chique,” he indulged, amused.

Nebra giggled, and in one smooth motion, dumped all of the rings into her satchel. “I’ll pick my favorites later.”

“Don’t pack more than you can carry,” he warned.

“I may jangle, but I won’t lag,” she said confidently, casting him a smirk.

Nozel stood and dusted himself off. “There isn’t much that is magic in here,” he mused, examining the room.

“That fares well for us getting to keep what we find,” Nebra chirped. “I don’t see the problem.”

“That wasn’t my concern, but… Solid!”

Nebra whirled around and bristled. Their younger brother stood before a pedestal bathed in unnatural light, at the top of which sat--  _ of all fucking things _ \--a crystal skull, radiating powerful magic. His fingers were nearly around it, and Nozel’s cry didn’t reach him soon enough to stop him from clutching the thing, pulling it off the pedestal, and stumbling back.

The room shook as if offended. The walls rumbled, and everything in the room rattled with the growing tremors radiating through the entire building.

“Solid!” Nebra cried, her voice shrill. “What are you doing!?”

The boy’s bewildered blue eyes went wide. “It-It’s the artifact!”

His rebuttal was swallowed up by the wall closest to him forming a fissure that sent massive stones crashing to the ground. Solid cried out and shrank as stone collapsed all around him, throwing up dust and a cacophony of noise.

Nozel’s heart leapt into his throat. A mercury disk formed under him and Nebra, and he shot forward on it, zigzagging between falling boulders and columns. Solid didn’t see him coming, and Nozel didn’t have time to warn him. He sped past him, grabbing him by the back of his Silver Eagles robe and dashing toward the door. His little brother let out a strangled cry as he was dragged along, but Nozel couldn’t afford to make him more comfortable. The door to the room was closing.

They shot out of the room as the doors slammed closed, Solid dangling from Nozel’s hand as Nebra scrambled for him. Nozel couldn’t afford to give them any of his attention: the walls of the corridor were narrowing, and the ceiling was collapsing. He had to push them faster even as he dodged falling stones, so all he could do was pray that Solid hadn’t lost a leg in the closing door, and keep his grip on him.

He extended the metal platform as he sensed Solid’s weight shift out of his hand. Solid and Nebra huddled behind him as he maneuvered through the dungeon falling apart around them. Nozel’s eyes watered through a cloud of dust. He narrowed them against the grit. The exit was in sight, but growing smaller by the moment. Rocks had collapsed in front of the opening. A narrow sliver of light was all the connection they had to the outside world.

They wouldn’t make it through together. Nozel’s platform shifted, putting Nebra and Solid ahead of him. Through dust and grit, he tried to do the mental calculations to get this right. If his aim was off, there would be no difference between letting his siblings die and killing them himself.

Mercury swirled around them, pulling them apart as the magic within it coiled like a spring under pressure. He sent Nebra first. She shot from the mercury slingshot like a bullet, shrieking in terror as she flew through the air and through the narrow opening in the wall of stone. When Nozel was sure that she’d made it through, his magic curled around Solid next. The boy struggled and screamed, but he went silent as he shot through the air, the wind knocked from his lungs. Nozel didn’t see him disappear through the sliver of light, but he didn’t see him hit the stone, either.

He risked a moment to wipe his eyes; the grit and dust was so thick on his lashes that he couldn’t see. His vision cleared enough to pick up the light among the stones, getting smaller as the boulders shifted, and he pushed himself as fast as he could go. His knees bent. His shoulders slacked. He brought his hands in front of him. And he dove through the opening, eyes shut, following the warmth of sunlight on his face.

Stone closed around his stomach and back, slamming the air from his lungs. With a pained grunt, he came to a violent halt, wedged between the collapsing wall of stone. He struggled frantically to free himself from the rocks, sandaled feet scrambling for a hold as he clawed for leverage with his hands.

Two sets of hands caught his wrists. Nebra and Solid yanked and pulled with all their might as Nozel kicked from the other side. The stone wall shifted and crumbled, and as the rocks below him gave, he came loose. The Silvas barely rolled clear of the rock slide that dammed up the dungeon’s entrance for good. Dust coated the air, and the three laid on the ground, panting and coughing.

The dust settled before they did. Nozel felt like something had taken a bite out of his stomach, and the aching pain in his back didn’t make him eager to try to move. He laid, eyes shut and watering, sucking in gritty breaths, while his younger siblings coughed and panted around him.

Nebra was the first to recover. She shifted toward him, her hand on his shoulder and her voice pitched with worry. “Are you okay?”

His voice came out hard in an effort to force the quake out of it. “I’m fine.” Moving slowly, he pushed himself onto his hands and knees. Half of his Silver Eagles robe hadn’t made it out with him; the tattered ends fell to his hips and just barely covered his bleeding stomach from his siblings. He took care to keep it that way as he eased onto his haunches. “Solid?”

“I’m okay.” He sat up with an ease that assured Nozel that he wasn’t injured, and in an effort to save face, dusted off his dirty robe.

“I should kick you out for this,” Nozel growled.

“You have to learn to think, Solid!” Nebra snapped. “You could have gotten us all killed! If Nozel hadn’t pitched us through the hole…!”

Solid shrank. “I didn’t realize that  _ everything _ would be boobytrapped!”

“Then you weren’t paying attention,” Nozel said.

Solid looked away, any protests beaten out of him.

“Did you keep a hold on the artifact?”

His gaze shifted back to Nozel, submissive but cautiously optimistic. From under his robe, he pulled out the crystal skull.

Nebra let out a sigh. “Well, at least this wasn’t entirely a waste then.”

Solid allowed himself a moment of hope. His gaze shifted to his brother.

Nozel wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of this victory. He rose, slowly as to not falter, and plucked the skull from Solid’s hand. “We’re leaving.”

All the optimism drained out of Solid’s face. He stood, head bowed, and joined Nebra at Nozel’s side. His signature silver eagle formed around them, and in abject silence, they flew back to the capital.


	2. Too Hot to Handle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Once things have settled from their dungeon crawl, Nozel plays with his new treasure. Nebra, Solid, and Noelle get to watch.

Nozel’s report on their mission was forgiving for Solid. While they’d lost access to most of the treasures, an appraisal of what they had managed to collect revealed that it wasn’t all that valuable; nothing the Clover Kingdom couldn’t spare, especially since they had managed to recover the artifact. So Nozel decided that Solid’s failings would remain a personal matter. He chalked up the loss of the dungeon to unforeseen circumstances in his report. Once their injuries were healed, he turned in his report and filed for permission to keep what he and Nebra had deemed their favorite items from the dungeon. Solid had collected nothing of worth, and he would get nothing.

It was with some satisfaction that Nozel discovered that his requests went through without much trouble. In a matter of a few weeks, he and Nebra were sent their requested pieces: Nebra got a necklace and a couple rings, and Nozel got a lapis lazuli pendant and the magic ring.

His surprise of the return of the magic item was enough to quell what still remained of his anger at his little brother by that point. Since the debacle, Solid had been benched; if he was put on any missions, it was something that was far below his royal status. Most of his time had been spent moping around and scuttling out of his siblings’ chastising auras. Now that Nozel and Nebra had received their spoils, and it seemed that the gravity of his indiscretion had thoroughly set in, Nozel decided that he could finally let his anger go.

The moment that Solid realized that his siblings’ wrath had fizzled out, he was back to being the obnoxious little shit he’d always been. Nozel had expected as much, and he tried not to dwell on it, because Solid knew that if he messed up like that again, Nozel would make good on his threat to kick him out of the Silver Eagles.

Nozel soon turned his attention to more interesting matters.

It was a few days before he got a chance to test out his new magic ring. When he finally encountered some free time at home, he plucked it out of his drawer and headed for the courtyard. On his way, he passed the tea room, where Nebra, Solid, and Noelle were in the death throes of a game of Yahtzee. Without pausing to check in, Nozel could piece together how the game had gone: Nebra had forced her younger siblings to play, Solid quickly got frustrated when he wasn’t winning, and while Nebra relished his building rage, Noelle tried to focus on playing the game to keep Nebra placated. From the corner of his eye, Nozel saw a flash of movement. Then he heard the cup of dice hit the wall and clatter to the floor. Solid’s voice rose above the clatter. “Fuck this game! You cheated, Noelle!”

“No I didn’t, Solid,” Noelle drawled. The usually tightness in her voice when faced with Solid’s volatility was fainter. When board games were involved, she knew that most of her brother’s wrath would be deflected off her.

“Don’t be a baby, Solid!” Nebra laughed. “Noelle is terrible, but your ineptitude at games is all on you!”

“Shut up! You’re cheating, too!” he hollered, stomping toward the door. “This is the last game I play with you! I’m out of here! Oh, hi, Nozel.”

Nozel let out a sigh through his nose. He’d come ten feet short of being out of dodge before Solid entered the hall. “Hello, Solid. Another tie?”

“Yeah, Nebra was cheating.” Swallowing his anger, he jogged to Nozel’s side. “What are you doing?”

“I’m going to the courtyard.”

“Why?”

Behind them, he sensed Nebra and Noelle step into the hall. “I have an item I’d like to test.”

“Oh, the ring from the dungeon?” Nebra intoned. “You haven’t gotten a chance to test it out yet?”

“No.” He turned the corner without slowing.

“What’s it do?” Noelle asked, tiptoeing after them.

“I don’t know,” he said. “That’s why I’m testing it.”

“Oh, this should be fun!” Nebra giggled, cutting off Noelle to follow her brothers.

Like ducklings trailing their mother, his siblings fell in line behind him. Although he’d expected a moment alone, Nozel couldn’t work up enough surprise to be upset. Habits were habits, and it was too late to discourage this one. He let them chatter amongst themselves as he made his way to the courtyard. There, as they clustered behind him, he slid on the ring and looked it over. While it was out of his custody, it had been shined and cleaned; now he could see a very fine inscription around the mounting of the gem, but he couldn’t make out what it said. The gem itself had cleaned up nicely, and now shown a golden honey color. It lapped lazily at his magic power, not so much drawing it in as receiving what naturally flowed its way. He once again came to the conclusion that it would channel it in some way, but exactly how, he could not tell.

Nozel curled his fingers into a fist and pointed the ring forward, into the open air. Slowly, with great care and precision, he channelled his magic power into it. The ring easily received it, gathering it up and building pressure. The gem took on a glow so faint that it barely showed in the midday sunlight. Nozel let it gather, hoping to parse out exactly what the release of power would do.

“...It’s not doing anything,” Solid muttered.

“He hasn’t done anything with it yet,” Nebra chided.

A twinge of annoyance muddied his concentration. How was he supposed to focus on diagnosing this item with Solid prattling on in the background?

He continued to let it build power. For such a simple device- it had to be for the kingdom to allow him to keep it without so much as a note -it sure had a large capacity. But charging the item was giving him no clues to its functionality, so he decided that it was best to release it before he poured too much power into it. Bracing for potential recoil, he released the magic.

A fireball shot from the ring, filling the empty space in front of him. It blasted outward with a pushback that would have knocked Nozel on his ass if he hadn’t prepared for it. The ball of fire swirled and sputtered, reaching his height before barely stabilizing. It smelled of heated metal, looked heavy and solid, and had an appearance like if its swirling surface was disturbed, it would explode. 

All three of his siblings scrambled backwards. Nozel narrowed his eyes against the fireball, the heat making his skin tingle. But the light was too dim to force him to look away, and captivated by the strangeness of the magical manifestation, he refused to.

The ball of fire hung in the air as if waiting to be directed. Then it condensed, shrinking and growing hotter, before hissing out, leaving a charred circle of earth and sizzling air in its place.

Nozel, Nebra, Solid, and Noelle stared at the spot the fireball had been in silent befuddlement. Slowly, Nozel drew his fist inward. The ring no longer glowed; all the collected magic power had been expelled. But his mana was still reacting to it, shifting erratically in reaction to the strange magic that had just manifested.

“That was insane!” Solid crowed, throwing his hands up. “Do it again, brother!”

“What a cute trick,” Nebra mused. “I wish my jewelry did that.”

“Will you do it again?” Solid begged.

Exercising more caution than he showed, Nozel pointed the ring up and let loose another impressive fireball. This one was smaller than the first- he didn’t dare pump as much magic power into it as before -but its appearance over their heads made it look fiercer. It hung in the air as if heavily weighted, its heat pressing down on them and its base growing wider than its top. His siblings whooped and hollered, scattering either out of excitement or fear, as the ball of fire tinted the courtyard red, before hissing out. When Nozel looked back, Nebra and Solid had fled back several yards, and Noelle had ducked for cover behind a bench.

Nozel looked down at the ring with a furrowed brow. Once again, his mana was in an upstir reacting to it. After seeing the way this ring worked, he got the acute sense that his mana did not like this object. It wasn’t made for him. Metal magic didn’t easily channel into fire magic, and while this ring was doing a good job at it, it was neither easy nor practical. He doubted his ability to control it in a useful way.

Solid’s voice came breathlessly from behind him. “That’s so cool! Can I try?”

“Absolutely not.”

Solid’s smile faltered; disappointed, but not surprised.

“Oh, I love it!” Nebra tittered, her hand curling in front of her mouth. “Talk about a surprise attack when you pull that out on the battlefield!”

Nozel shook his head. “I am not going to use it.”

Noelle poked her head over the bench. “Why not?”

“It’s not suited to my magic.” He added, for their own benefit, “Couldn’t you tell?”

His siblings stared back at him stupidly. One by one they looked away, their expressions some mixture of embarrassed and apologetic.

“Then what are you going to do with it?” Nebra asked.

“Could I try it?” Solid asked, for once having the sense to come off a little timid. “Please, brother? I’ll work very hard to use it responsibly!”

Nozel cast an impatient leer at him. “No.”

“Could I try it?” Nebra asked, grinning.

Nozel took a beat to consider that as he eased the ring off his finger. He doubted that Nebra’s magic would be any more suited to it than his was, but he supposed there was no harm in letting her try. He waited a beat- just long enough to make her nervous -and held out the ring.

Solid looked up at Nozel like he had kicked dirt in his face.

Nebra slipped the ring onto her narrow finger and pointed it forward, an eager grin stretching wide across her face. The ring gained its ochre glow before a fireball shot out. It gathered for only a beat before swirling out, as if pulled in all directions. Nebra bristled as fire billowed toward them like a wave from the sea, and Nozel wrapped an arm around her waist and dragged her behind his mercury shield as the spot where they stood a moment before was enveloped in dancing flames. It was gone as startlingly quickly as it’d formed.

Nozel ran his hand down his face, as much in exasperation as to check that he still had his eyebrows. Blades of grass and the leaves of bushes surrounding the courtyard burned briefly before the flames winked out. Unlike the fireballs generated by his magic, the heat of Nebra’s fire didn’t linger for a moment. Although stubborn bits of flame took their time flickering out, no heat stuck in the air.

He didn’t realize that his grip on Nebra was iron strong until she tried to wiggle out of it. He let her go, and she turned around and pulled the ring off with clumsy fingers. “Not suited to my magic,” she repeated. “I see what you mean now.”

“I could have done better than that!” Solid scoffed.

Nozel cast Solid a look that could have cut steel, but Nebra’s tongue was sharper still. “Solid, if you could do better, then we wouldn’t have had to drag you out of a crumbling dungeon on your first mission.”

Solid cringed like she’d punched him in the stomach.

“Wig,” Noelle mumbled.

“What are you going to do with it, brother?” Nebra asked, dropping the ring into Nozel’s palm.

“I don’t know,” he professed. The discovery that his treasure was useless at best, and dangerous at worst, had soured his mood. He hadn’t even had the foresight to request more treasure to make up for it. He shoved the ring in his pocket, spitefully, and muttered, “I’ll store it for now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Say goodbye to the younger Silvas after this chapter. Only Nebra makes an appearance after this. We're moving on to the homies.


	3. Boy's Night Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nozel spends a night with his old friends. Shenanigans ensue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rough start to this one. Bear with me.
> 
> Seems worth mentioning that while the homies are not star characters in the show, they are all canon. Their personalities obviously are not, but there are no OCs in this fic.
> 
> Nozel and Fuegoleon have been friends with these guys since they were kids. They have a lot of history. Part of that history-- very important for this fic, and this series --is that by this time, every single one of them has come out as gay or bi except for Fuegoleon. And none of them buy that he's straight.
> 
> (There are actually more friends who were either not invited or couldn't come, but we'll get to that when we get to that.)

For the first time in months, Nozel’s old friends had a chance to get together. 

Nozel saw Simon and Nils often enough, as they’d joined the Silver eagles together, and they arrived at the bar as a trio. There they met those of their friends who had chosen to join the Crimson Lions: Ruben and Forte were already there with Fuegoleon, taking up the stools at the bar and halfway through their first round of drinks.

The Crimson Lions greeted them boisterously, drawing the attention of all of the bar to the three Silver Eagles as they found spots at free bar stools. Nozel felt a warmth in his chest that he hadn’t felt in months. He let his Crimson Lion friends jostle and harass him as he found a seat at the bar. Among their greetings, Ruben shoved a beer into Nozel’s hand. He passed it on to Simon, who flashed him a grin and tipped it back. Nozel wasn’t much of a drinker, but he planned to drink tonight, and he would not start with beer.

He would, however, end with a beer. Pleasantly dizzy and with stars taking up his vision, Nozel tipped back the last of his beer and let the bottle roll into the grass. Beside him, Simon let out a soft giggle. “You’re holding your liquor tonight, bro.”

He shifted his gaze to the redheaded silver eagle with a smirk. “So are you.” 

Simon smiled and gave his beer bottle a stir. “I’ve been practicing. Have to keep up with my brothers, y’know.”

Nozel let out a huff of a chuckle. He liked Simon. Frankly, he was his favorite of their friends, besides Fuegoleon. He had a good head on his shoulders, and when he didn’t let his timidness get the best of him, he was smart and responsible. That was a breath of fresh air compared to all the other idiots in their squad-- himself included, once the alcohol started flowing.

He sat up as he heard the tussle behind him getting a little energetic. Simon did the same, and they watched as Fuegoleon flung Ruben into the duck pond. Nils and Forte whooped and hollered as if this wasn’t the totally predictable outcome from their wrassle, and Fuegoleon pumped his fists in the air and did a lap around the pool. They were all drunk and riled up, but at least not so riled up that they forgot to help Ruben out of the pond when his boots, filled with water, made him slow and clumsy. Fuegoleon collided with him, catching him in a bear hug that sent the two of them to the ground. “Don’t worry, bro, I’ve got you!” the Vermillion hollered, his mana flaring. The two rolled around in the grass in a pitiful mix of an embrace and a tussle until Ruben was dry enough that his hair started to fluff-- in all the wrong directions, but fluff, nonetheless. Then they sprang apart, laughing and shoving. “Who’s next?” Fuegoleon roared, throwing his arms open.

“Fuck off, Fuego, no one can beat you,” Forte puffed, crossing his arms over his chest like an impetuous child.

Fuego’s nose wrinkled; he couldn’t be offended, and he couldn’t decide if he should be disappointed. “Well, then, how about another game? One without strength. I want to play.”

“You’re drunk,” Nozel accused, flashing him a clumsy smirk.

“So are you!” Ruben sauntered closer and leaned over him, eyes narrowed and lips pursed. “You haven’t gotten off the ground since we got here.”

“I’m enjoying the atmosphere.” He made a grand gesture to the Vermillion courtyard. “Maybe you should try it.”

“We’re not here to _enjoy the atmosphere,_ Nozel,” Forte snorted, lumbering after Ruben. “Get up. Play a game with us.”

Before he could work up a proper protest, Forte and Ruben had him by the arms. They dragged him to his feet, and then sprang on Simon, doing the same to him. He let out a weak grumble of protest, but neither of them really put up a fight. They were mellowed out by the alcohol and resigned to their fate.

Fuegoleon beamed at them. “Now, what should we play?”

The group fell into thoughtful silence. Nozel’s eyes floated skyward again. He didn’t plan on making a suggestion; only rejections. Courtyard games weren’t a big part of his childhood unless they involved these idiots, so he usually left picking the game to the professionals.

“What about star tipping?” Nils asked.

All eyes turned to him. The game was one they’d played before- years ago, when they’d been young and sober. It wasn’t a game that lent itself to a happy outcome with all of them drunk.

Nozel shook his head. “I don’t think-”

“That’s perfect!” Ruben sang. He elbowed Simon. “Then you and Nozel can keep looking at the sky!”

Simon’s eyes narrowed dubiously. He side-eyed Nozel, but his protests were swallowed up by the others’ cheers of approval.

“Remind me how to play that one?” Forte asked, scratching the back of his head.

“You pick a star,” Nils said, “stare at it, and spin. Then it’s a race to the finish line.”

“It’s perfect!” Fuegoleon’s mana flared excitedly. “A contest of dexterity! That’s one that some of you can win!”

“For fuck’s sake,” Nozel muttered.

Ruben, Forte, and Nils cheered like they’d just heard the speech of the century. There was no getting out of this, Nozel decided, but there was a way to do the least amount of damage. “I’ll be the finish line,” he declared, spreading his hands out wide. Picking his steps carefully, he backed up, putting several yards between himself and his friends. “You have to make it to me. Fair?”

“You’re perfect, Nozel,” Nils indulged.

“Shut up, Nils.”

Simon snorted back a laugh as he joined the others in their rudimentary starting place. Fuegoleon craned his head skyward, and began the countdown. “Pick your stars, men! One, two, three, and… spin!”

The magic knights spun like tops until Fuegoleon hollered their start. It was all Nozel could do to not break down laughing as they swayed toward him, their feet barely under them if they could stay standing at all. Fuegoleon rocketed out of his starting place, only to nose dive into the ground so hard that he ripped up grass. Forte tripped into the duck pond. Simon tottered sideways, and then backwards, before falling on his face. Nils walked in circles until he tipped over sideways. Only Ruben managed to make it more than halfway to him, his balance getting steadier with each stop. At the halfway mark he lurched forward, and trying to beat his dizziness, crashed into Nozel, sending them both to the ground. Nozel landed hard on his back with Ruben on top of him.

The hit knocked the wind out of him, but Nozel saw it coming, so he didn’t hit his head. He blinked up at the stars, and then as Ruben pushed onto his hands and knees, met his swimming eyes. The brunet smirked down at him and let out a sultry “Hey.”

“You won, asshole,” Nozel puffed, happy to chalk up the heat in his cheeks to drunkeness. “Get off.”

His smirk turning smug, he did as he was told, and Nozel sat up to survey his fallen comrades. Fuegoleon, mouth full of dirt, was on his hands and knees, toddling like a newborn fawn. The others seemed to have given up; Forte laid in the mud beside the duck pond with all the grace and courage of a drowned cat. Nils still laid on his side where he’d fallen. Simon sat upright, head bobbing softly and eyes spinning.

“That went well,” Nozel laughed.

Ruben snorted, and that was all it took for Nozel to lose it. He doubled over, wheezing with laughter as Ruben bellowed and chortled beside him. One by one the others made their way to them, all on their hands and knees, a couple stopping now and then to either stifle vomit or succumb to their nausea. Ruben and Nozel couldn’t come up for air. With the contest over, Nozel was riding the wave of avoiding the worst of it. As their friends formed a sulky half-circle around him, he got to his feet. “Water?”

The bashful, drunken reply came from half a dozen voices all a beat apart. “Water.”

Sucking in his snickers, Nozel sauntered toward the estate. He had to stop in the doorway; the help couldn’t see him giddy like this. He had a persona to maintain, even if these were only the Vermillion servants. It took longer to reign in his smile than to find a servant, and with someone sent to bring them water, he returned to his friends.

“So, how about another round?” he hummed, setting a hand on his hip and smirking at the sullen group.

“I’ll throw up _on_ you,” Forte warned, pressing his mouth to the back of his hand.

“I tried to tell you,” Simon muttered, ripping up grass sheepishly.

“Nils, good idea, bad timing,” Fuegoleon admonished, easing onto his back and closing his eyes.

Nils managed a ghost of a smile between gags. He shrugged.

“Nils always has the worst ideas. You’re all just drunk enough to listen to him,” Nozel said.

Nils cast him a wounded look. Nozel poignantly ignored it. His beef with Nils was completely personal, so it only ever came up at outings like this, and never during their knightly duties. They’d gotten together so infrequently lately that Nozel suspected that Nils had forgotten that Nozel had a vendetta against him.

“It was a good idea,” Fuegoleon protested, never reluctant to defend someone’s honor. “We just… shouldn’t have drunk so much.”

“ _I_ didn’t,” Nozel bragged.

“You couldn’t,” Ruben grunted.

“Yeah, if you’d drunk half as much as the rest of us, you’d be comatose, you pansy,” Forte added.

Nozel glowered at him, but he suspected that his heated cheeks gave him away. “Shut the fuck up.”

“You shut the fuck up,” Forte retorted.

“Both of you, shut the fuck up,” Ruben interjected. “The water’s here.”

The men grew quiet as they watched a middle aged woman cross the courtyard. She delicately set down a tray with two pitchers of ice water and a stack of glasses. With a bow, she strolled off, making no sign of having seen the ridiculousness that was the entirety of what was taking place.

Peace fell over the group as they dealt out much-needed rounds of water. It seemed enough to settle everyone’s stomachs, and they drained the first pitcher in pleasant silence.

It was Ruben who, in classic fashion, broke the silence. “Fellas,” he said, raising his glass to the sky, “is it gay to enjoy a beautiful night under the stars with your best friends?”

Everyone echoed back a confident no.

Nozel drained his glass, set it aside, and laid back, making sure he had a clear line of sight to Fuegoleon. This was what he’d been waiting for all night. His favorite friendly pastime.

Ruben tipped back his glass like he was finishing off a whiskey on the rocks. “Is it gay to wish that we could do this every weekend?”

“Nothing gay about that,” Forte declared, punctuated with a burp.

Simon smiled and twirled his hair. “Is it gay to stare at the stars and think about how you’ve got the most wonderful man in the world waiting for you at home?”

Nils, Forte, and Ruben let out a low “Hmmm.” They exchanged looks, suddenly serious, as Fuegoleon looked on in growing confusion and anticipation.

“Nothing gay about that,” Ruben finally decided. “Unless you want to kiss him.”

“Then, it’s a little gay,” Nils agreed.

Forte guffawed. “Woah, woah, it’s not gay to kiss the homies goodnight!”

“Unless your homie’s the most wonderful man in the world,” Nozel chimed in.

Simon sucked his teeth and bowed his head, fighting back a growing smile. “Fellas… it is with great sadness that I announce I might be gay.”

Ruben and Forte bit back giggles as all of them bowed their heads in mock grief. Nozel sat up, filled his glass, and after a beat of mourning, poured a little out for his homie.

All the while Fuegoleon looked on like he was gathering all the clues to a riddle.

“How is your man, Simon? You could have brought him,” Ruben said.

“Yeah, we could have fit in a trial by fire,” Forte added, twirling his finger with a flicker of flame.

“That’s exactly why I didn’t bring him,” he chuckled. “He’s shy.”

“Can’t be having that,” Fuegoleon said, tipping an ice cube into his mouth. “He’s got to meet us eventually.”

“Maybe if we got together more than once a season, it would feel more appropriate,” Nozel pointed out. Having met Simon’s boyfriend, he could understand the man’s reservations. This wasn’t an easy group to come into, especially when every time they got together, they didn’t waste any time getting back on their bullshit.

Ruben threw up his hands. “Then I guess we’d better get together more often.”

“We’ve determined it’s not gay, so there’s no excuse,” Forte added.

A chuckle rippled through the group, followed by a more serious agreement.

“But is it gay to agree with your homie that his boyfriend’s the most wonderful man in the world?” Nozel asked, eager to pull them back into the game.

“Oooh, that’s a tough one,” Ruben said gravely. 

“I think Simon gets the final word on this one,” Nils said, casting the redhead a smile.

“I think it’s a little gay.” Simon pinched his fingers. “Just a little.”

Ruben, Forte, Nils, and Nozel sucked their teeth.

“Man, that’s tough,” Ruben repeated.

“If we don’t think he’s wonderful, that means we’ve got to kick his ass,” Forte said. “But if we _do_ think he’s wonderful, we’re gay.”

Nozel shook his head and put his hand to his chest. “Simon, kicking your boyfriend’s ass… that would destroy me.”

Forte snorted into his glass and laughed, but nodded along, trying to regain his stoic facade. Nils, Ruben, and Fuegoleon followed suit.

Simon giggled into his glass. “Don’t worry, he really is the most wonderful man in the world. I’m not worried.”

“Ah. Hmm…” Nozel closed his eyes and shook his head, fighting with all his might to keep his face grave. “Simon… that’s pretty gay.”

Forte cackled into his glass. The rest soon followed suit, choking on the hilarity of their own joke. Even Fuegoleon, who was still completely lost, joined in, and they spent a couple minutes laughing themselves out.

“One of these days, we’re going to get ourselves in trouble doing this,” Nils chuckled.

“How? You going around asking people on the street if it’s gay to kiss the homies goodnight?” Forte asked, shoving him in the shoulder. “Don’t out us like that.”

“What happens with the homies stays with the homies,” Nozel agreed, stretching to drop his empty glass on the tray. As he did, he caught a glint of something rolling out of his pocket. He sat up and looked around, but he’d lost sight of it.

“That’s not what I meant, and I think you know it.” Nils leaned forward, putting his back to Fuegoleon, and motioned to him with a minute tick of his head. Fuegoleon was still holding the place of the observer, and neither noticed the gesture, nor the insinuation in his friend’s words.

“Hasn’t gotten us in trouble yet,” Forte said boldly, a devilish smirk creeping across his face. “Well, most of us.”

“You’re not funny,” Nozel said, his gaze turning swiftly back to the grass. He poked around, unsure of what he was looking for but happy for the distraction.

“Bitch, I’m hilarious.”

“All we’re doing is establishing a dichotomy,” Ruben said, his voice quaking with a giggle. “What’s gay? What’s not gay? The world needs to know.”

“ _Deserves_ to know,” Simon reiterated.

This insinuation was meant for Nozel, and he caught it, and he didn’t appreciate it. He cast Simon an icy scowl, but didn’t hold it long enough to have the desired effect. Whatever he was searching for in the grass, he’d found it.

“The rules change every time you play this game,” Fuegoleon complained, rising from his seat in a disarmingly sober motion. “I can’t keep up.”

“We know, bro,” Ruben said sympathetically, tilting his head back to gaze up at him. “Don’t worry. You’re doing fine.”

Fuegoleon huffed, his smile wry, and picked up the tray. “Give me your glasses. The bottles, too. I’ll run them inside.”

Nozel brought his discovery up to his eyes. It took him a beat to recognize the magic ring that he’d stashed away a few weeks ago now. As recognition dawned, he realized that he must have forgotten to actually stash it away. It must have been in his pocket all this time. Lucky that it hadn’t fallen out in the wash.

The glasses and bottles collected, Fuegoleon lumbered toward the door. Nozel only noticed when the heat of his mana stopped warming his back. He watched with his friends as Fuegoleon disappeared along the winding trail of the courtyard.

“The man’s as clueless as he is gorgeous,” Forte lamented.

“Leave him alone,” Simon chuckled. “He’ll figure it out in his own time.”

Nozel made a point to be looking at the ring in his hand. He didn’t feel like being the butt of any more jokes tonight, and he was only listening enough to know that the conversation might turn that way. He decided, triumphantly, that this was a perfect time to be rid of this ring. Pushing to his feet, he strolled after Fuegoleon.

Everyone’s eyes immediately shifted to him. “Where are you going?” Nils called.

He waved them off. ‘Nowhere’ would not have been a satisfying answer anyway.

It didn’t stop them heckling him all the way across the courtyard, but he smugly ignored them. He caught up to Fuegoleon at the door, where he was waiting for a servant to meet him. “Fuego.”

Whatever had been on the Vermillion’s mind, it was interesting enough to make Nozel’s approach a surprise to him. He whirled around, startling, and the corner of the tray collided with Nozel’s hand. The ring flew from his grasp, and he recoiled with a hiss. “Bitch!”

“Oh! Sorry!” Fuegoleon stepped back, into the hall, and caught the closing door with his elbow. “I didn’t hear you follow me.”

“How could you not hear me? I wasn’t sneaking up!” he complained, shaking out his hand. The shooting pain of a poked nerve radiated up his elbow, but it would be short lived. That didn’t stop it hurting like a bitch.

“Are you alright?” Fuegoleon asked bashfully.

“I’m fine.” His eyes trained on the ground. The ring had disappeared among the grass, and he hadn’t seen where it’d fallen. “Return the tray. I have to find something.”

He paused a moment, before dipping farther into the hall. The door closed behind him.

Nozel knelt and combed the grass with his fingers, muttering obscenities as the pain in his hand petered out. It was just like his idiot rival to send his gift flying before he even knew it was for him. _If I ever find the damn thing, I should give it to Forte,_ he thought spitefully. But a beat later, as if speaking it into existence, his fingers closed around the ring, and the idea fled his mind. No, this ring was for Fuegoleon, whether he wanted it or not.

He picked it up and dusted it off, eyes narrowed, as the door behind him opened. Fuegoleon stepped out, put a hand on his hip, and stared down at him with a cocked brow. “What, uh…”

“You knocked something out of my hand, you hopeless fool,” Nozel grumbled, more for theatrics than out of lingering feelings of spite. He straightened on his knee, and held it up. “Here.”

Fuegoleon’s eyes widened like a kitten discovering a feather. He tilted his head and examined the ring, but didn’t pluck it out of his hand. “What is it?”

“It’s a magic ring. It produces fire magic. Take it.”

His lips quirked into an adorably flattered smile, and he took it with all the reverence of a priceless heirloom. After looking it over, he slipped it on his finger and examined it from there.

Satisfied, Nozel set his hands on his knee to push off. He stopped short, however, when he noticed that their friends had conglomerated down the path, and were watching them with intense stares that he knew could only mean trouble.

Ruben’s voice reached them with a crispness and clarity of a sports commentator. “Fellas, is it gay to propose to your best bro and rival in the scenic courtyard on a beautiful summer night?”

The men absolutely lost it. Nils and Forte couldn’t even stay on their feet. Forte pounded on the ground. Simon looked like he might cry. Ruben had never been prouder or redder in the face.

Nozel and Fuegoleon exchanged a startled look. Then Nozel looked down at himself, and realized, with growing dread, that he was, in fact, down on one knee.

In the moment that he looked away, Fuegoleon made a damning choice. He grabbed Nozel by the arms, pulled him to his feet, and with all the passion of a Spartan warrior cried, “I accept!” before planting a kiss on his lips so deep and inviting that Nozel couldn’t help kissing back.

The impassioned cheers of their friends was so genuine, and Fuegoleon’s lips against his so intense, that Nozel really had to think back and make sure that he hadn’t asked his rival to marry him. The moment lasted so long. The cheering didn’t stop. Fuegoleon was still, with a startling amount of skill, pressing his lips to his.

When their lips finally parted, Fuegoleon’s lips brushed his cheek, and his hot breath pressed against his ear. “No homo.”

Nozel fell flat on his ass. Their friends descended upon them, chortling and chattering like a herd of excited bridesmaids. Someone pulled Nozel to his feet and put his arm around his shoulders. Fuegoleon flipped his hair and showed off the ring. The men crowed and tittered.

Nozel couldn’t make out what anyone was saying, and no one was talking to him anyway. He now had a friend on each side of him, their arms around his shoulders and waist, and they huddled closer as Fuegoleon raised his fist to the sky and drew from the ring a magnificent fireball. It was huge, shining, yellow, and swirling, wild and powerful but perfectly controlled. It lit up the entire courtyard, and even when Fuegoleon lowered his hand it bent to his will, swirling upward in a magnificent caracel of flame, before leaping toward the heavens in ribbons.

It was so beautiful that for just a moment, Nozel could set aside the mortification of his current situation to appreciate the show. When the flames faded, the courtyard seemed darker than ever as his eyes readjusted to the lack of light. It forced the voices around him to solidify into words, and he suffered through a conversation that eventually dragged him in.

They would have a summer wedding, they decided.

They had no choice but to make their colors purple and red.


	4. Playing the Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything comes full-circle at the last outdoor get-together of the year.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, time to lay all my cards on the table. This fic was inspired by this text post --> https://spindaonateaspoon.tumblr.com/post/614711807422119936/i-havent-gotten-there-in-the-series-yet-but-i
> 
> I actually did write a drabble using it as a script, but it's not very good. So I cut it out.
> 
> Nozel is a human trash compactor. He's a goat. He can eat anything. It's not a talent he advertises, because it's very unbecoming of a royal. But it does come up here.

Monthly get-togethers. That is what they agreed on.

And to Nozel’s pleasant surprise, the arrangement stuck.

It didn’t always stick easily. There were arguments about where to get together, who was invited, what they would do. More than anything, what complicated their meetings was Fuegoleon finally earning the rank of Crimson Lion Magic Knights captain. But over the summer, the squad managed to come together once or more a month. The summer was good to them: their mission load was light and everyone was willing and able to be around, so they saw a lot of each other through the nicest part of the year.

But as long summer nights tipped into cool fall evenings, their mission load started to pick up again, and the numbers at their get-togethers dwindled.

Nozel knew when he stepped into the chilly evening air that this would be their last outdoor get-together for the year. He pulled his cloak tighter around his shoulders and started down the well-worn walking path. Their rendezvous point this time was the royal hunting range. The property had been mostly unused for its namesake for years; none of the Silvas or Kiras were hunters, and hadn’t been since Nozel’s grandparents’ generation. The Vermillions hunted, but there was never any risk of their outings coinciding with anyone else's, and the way Meoroleona hunted, she didn’t leave equipment. So the expanse of woods was maintained for the simple pleasure of experiencing it. Whatever wild game had once treaded lightly had returned and grown accustomed to the property’s relative protection, so now as he walked down the walking path, bunnies and birds paid him little mind, giving him a wide berth but fearing no ill fate from his presence.

The last time he’d come through here, the fauna had been a little more cautious, as he’d been escorting a group. Now, he walked alone. Over the last few days, every one of his silver eagle friends had bowed out of their meeting. Their excuses had been valid and he couldn’t blame them for it, but that meant that he was left with whatever crimson lions could make it, and he neither knew who was coming nor how much he had to prepare. They were by nature a more energetic group than the silver eagles, and coming without backup left him open to anything. Of course, it wouldn’t be the first time he’d face the rambunctious lot alone, and he would be just fine.

At the point where the open plains gave way to tall trees and thick ground cover, Nozel listened for his friends. Fuegoleon would be bringing the crimson lions through. It wouldn’t be the first time that he beat Nozel here, especially if his people hadn’t kept him waiting. He caught the sound of branches snapping under heavy feet easily enough, and gave chase, following the sound down the path until he discovered the culprit.

Where the path opened into a small clearing-- once for keeping hunting equipment, now a spot of respite with a new metal bench --sat Fuegoleon. He occupied the entire bench, his arms spread across the back of it, and he watched Nozel approach with growing disappointment. When Nozel came to a forlorn stop a few feet from him, he asked, “All your people bailed, too?”

“Afraid so.”

Fuegoleon pursed his lips, his eyes narrowing in thought, and then he stood, stepped around the bench, and picked something up. “Well, we can still hang out.” His voice gaining energy, he continued, “We haven’t done something together since you became captain.”

Nozel frowned. That couldn’t be true. He’d been captain for over six months now. Surely the two of them had gotten together since then…

But as he thought back, he realized that Fuegoleon was right. Their semi-regular meetings had fizzled out as he’d come into his captain responsibilities, and somehow he’d failed to notice. Their meetings with their friends filled the void, but it wasn’t the same.

Nozel’s expression softened, touched by a hint of guilt. “You’re right. It’s a shame we let it go so long.”

Fuegoleon flashed him a smile and lifted a basket onto the bench. “I brought snacks. They’re inedible, but Leopold is on a baking kick, so I’ll get your opinion and come back with constructive criticism. We’ll ditch them out here.”

“Did you bring anything edible?” Nozel asked, peering into the basket.

Fuego pawed through it until he found a bottle of something that Nozel suspected was too strong for just the two of them. When he took it from him, he confirmed his suspicion: high-proof rum. With it, Fuego pulled out a bottle of fruit punch.

“I’m not drinking that with you,” he said, setting the bottle aside.

“I’m not giving you the choice,” he retorted, lining the bench with the contents of the basket: a stack of wooden cups, a package wrapped in cheese paper, a box of crackers, and a pack of jerky.

“Our get-togethers don’t usually involve us getting plastered,” he contested, picking up the cheese paper package. He opened it up and gazed down at a batch of honey-colored cookies. Completely innocuous-- not the baking horror he’d anticipated. He picked one up and examined it.

“Things change!” Fuegoleon said cheerfully. He gave the juice a shake, opened it up, and filled a cup halfway. As he added rum, he eyed Nozel with a hopeful smirk. “Just one, and I’ll let you be. We won’t get plastered on our own.”

Nozel’s incredulous gaze fixed on him as he took a bite of the cookie. The texture was terrible: crumbly and dry, robbing his mouth of moisture. That was strange, since it was sickeningly buttery. He tasted a hint of vanilla once he’d swallowed, but it hardly complimented the other flavors in his mouth. A biscuit with high hopes of being a cookie.

Fuegoleon raised his eyebrows expectantly and held out the drink.

Nozel popped the rest of the cookie in his mouth. With exaggerated horror, Fuegoleon watched as he chewed, swallowed, and picked up another. He finished it without blinking, and, gaze a stony challenge, picked up a third. Then he thrusted the package at Fuegoleon.

The Vermillion eyed the cookies like they might rise up and bite him. Nozel would not yield. He bit into his third cookie. Chewing slowly and purposefully, he waited for Fuegoleon to accept his challenge or give up. These things were terrible, but far from inedible. He could do this all night.

With a low growl, Fuegoleon snatched the package from his hand. He picked up a cookie, glared at it, glared at Nozel, and set down the drink. He took a bite.

The challenge went on, growing more intense with every cookie that the two managed to eat. Nozel revelled in the way that his rival literally choked the things down; the worst reaction  _ he  _ had from them was a need for a drink. They got saltier the more he ate. He had cottonmouth. The last few stuck to his dry throat. But the taste was bearable. He kept on eating.

He thought Fuegoleon was going to be sick before they finished the batch. Nozel popped the last cookie into his mouth with a flourish. Seven. He’d eaten seven. Fuegoleon had gagged down five.

“Bastard,” Fuego snarled, casting him a glare heavy with defeat. He picked up the mixed drink and guzzled it down.

Nozel smirked. He shifted the snacks aside, dropped the cheese paper into the basket, and sat down. “I don’t know what you’re grumbling about. Now you don’t have to lie to your brother.” He picked up a cup.

Fuego grunted as he refilled his cup with juice. When Nozel reached for the juice, he yanked it out of reach, set it on the ground behind him, and snatched Nozel’s cup. He filled it with a generous amount of rum. Then he added punch. Scowl curling into a cheeky sneer, he handed it back.

Nozel’s smile turned to dust. He took the drink, brought it to his lips, sucked it down. The taste of alcohol scrunched his nose. It burned going down. This was more than he wanted to drink. But at least on top of seven cookies, it wouldn’t knock him on his ass. And he was far too thirsty to stop drinking.

He drained the cup and clapped it on the back of the bench, demanding another. Fuegoleon plucked it from his hand and picked up the rum, an impish smile tugging at his lips.

“Don’t you fucking dare.”

Fuegoleon’s hand hovered over the rum long enough to make Nozel nervous, but in the end he leaned back and picked up the juice. Cup filled, he handed it back to Nozel with that same impish smile. Then he refilled his own, and added a shot of rum. As he sipped, he threw everything back into the basket and sat on the bench.

When Nozel started to feel the alcohol, he set down his drink and looked skyward. Beside him, Fuegoleon was still finishing his second drink. The chill following the setting sun was kept at bay by the Vermillion’s fiery mana; Nozel could tell that he was letting it billow, keeping the both of them comfortable. It could be an act of pride just as easily as an act of consideration; Fuegoleon knew that Nozel didn’t handle cold well, and whether that was a point of mockery or concern depended on his mood.

Fuegoleon set down his cup and clapped Nozel on the shoulder. “You good?”

He pushed his hand away and lifted his head. All things considered, he didn’t feel too bad. “I’ll be fine. You’re the one who looked like you were going to be sick.”

Fuegoleon snorted and got to his feet. “Nothing will come back up. Come on. Let’s tussle.”

A wry smile pulled at Nozel’s lips. He was feeling confident. He’d learned some new moves since he’d become captain. And while his wins against the Crimson Lion King weren’t numerous, he had won against him before. If he could stay out from under him, he could outmaneuver him. Yes, he wanted to fight. There would be no better end to the summer than taking home two victories on his rival in one night.

Fuegoleon must have read incredulity in his smirk. He bounced on his toes and put up his fists. “Come on. I drank more than you. We’re evenly drunk.”

With a chuckle, Nozel pushed to his feet. The sway in his legs was manageable. His mana flared. “Come at me, bro.”

Fuegoleon beamed. He backpedaled, putting a couple yards between them, and dropped into an offensive stance. He gave Nozel a moment to set his feet, and then sprang at him.

They connected, arms wrapping around each other’s backs. Fuegoleon landed off-balance, and Nozel twisted. Fuego staggered, his weight landing on the Silva, and narrowly took him down with him before he caught himself. Nozel kept their momentum going, and he pulled Fuego from his feet again. They spun to the ground and rolled in the grass, shoving and kicking. Fuegoleon was clumsy; maybe he’d put more rum in his drink than Nozel had noticed. Or maybe he’d put less in Nozel’s. But Nozel found himself able to keep up, to slip out of every hold Fuegoleon got him in. He was strong as ever, and their first round took longer than it usually would, but Nozel was eventually able to nail him down.

Fuegoleon landed hard on his back, Nozel slamming against him. The wind knocked out of him, Fuego didn’t react fast enough to stop Nozel from catching his hands, pinning them to the ground under his own. He sank the rest of his weight onto Fuego’s hips and stared down at him, braced to keep his ground when Fuego recovered.

But he didn’t. Lips parted, he panted, puffing cloud after cloud of steam into the cold air between them. His eyes locked with Nozel’s. Nozel found himself unconventionally pinned, still as stone and waiting as their the smells of fruit punch and rum mingled from their breath. Their palms, pressed hard together, grew clammy.

Fuegoleon’s mouth opened, and closed. He let out a puff of air, and then breathed, “I have something for you.”

Nozel stared at him, uncomprehending. Usually they waited for the loser to admit defeat. That was what he’d been doing. But usually they were sober. He paused a beat, undecided-- he wouldn’t lose this victory to a trick. Fuegoleon stared up at him, gaze as brilliant and patient as ever.

“What?”

“I have something for you. If you’ll let me up.”

His lips formed a thin line. His pride wouldn’t let him believe that this was simply a change of subject, even if he knew that his rival was above such tricks. “Well, then give up.”

“Mercy, I give up.”

His frown pulled down into a pout. It was no fun to claim a victory that wasn’t a loss for his opponent. Nonetheless he released Fuego’s hands and sat up. Fuegoleon reached into his cloak, the motion carrying just a hint of urgency to it, and pulled out a small black box. He looked it over, as if to assure that it was what he was looking for, and then turned it to Nozel. With a smile that wasn’t quite as wide as usual, he opened it up. 

Nozel stared down at a velvet box displaying a finely banded silver ring with a sparkling blue stone. He couldn’t tell exactly what shade of blue it was in the dimming light-- light blue? Dark blue? Aquamarine? --but it was neatly cut, and set perfectly within a uniquely-shaped mounting.

Heat erupted all the way from Nozel’s chest to his forehead. He leaned back, running his hand down his red face, and stared at the ring through his fingers. “What-- What the hell is this?”

“You’re not that drunk,” Fuegoleon said, his voice lilting with smugness. He propped himself up on one elbow and turned the back of his hand to him. There, on his ring finger, was the magic ring with the yellow gem that Nozel had given him at the beginning of the summer. The Wedding Ring, they called it; an inside joke among their band of friends, and the tipping point in making Fuegoleon a magic knight captain six weeks ago. Nozel had only heard stories about how fiersome the Crimson Lion King had become with the powerful magic item that had seemingly materialized out of thin air for him. “Now we’ll match!”

Nozel’s head was spinning. He leaned back, only for his shoulders to hit Fuegoleon’s knees. In the midst of all this, he had nearly forgotten that he was sitting on top of him. He froze, staring at the gorgeous piece of jewelry as he tried to conjure a coherent thought over his inner voice screaming hysterically. “Why-?”

Fuegoleon’s mirth melted from his face. Suddenly, he was intensely serious. “I’ve been thinking seriously about this, Nozel. And I decided, when I became captain of the Crimson Lions, that I could no longer pretend that this means nothing.”

_ This? _ What was  _ this? _

“It was something that I should have reciprocated months ago. I have no excuse for my negligence. I can only fix it now.”

Nozel thought he might pass out.

“So, take it.” He shoved the ring toward him. “It’s not perfect, but it’s the best I can do for now. And I owe you more than this later.”

He couldn’t make his hands work. All he could do was stare past the ring, at Fuegoleon, as he tried to parse out what was going on in his big, beautiful, empty head.

Fuego’s brow furrowed. “What? What’s wrong?”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

He blinked at him, confusion coloring his expression. His gaze darted to the ring box, but returned to Nozel swiftly, as if he expected him to disappear if he looked away for too long. He held up his hand again. “You gave me this ring.”

“Yes…?”

“And this ring is why I became the Crimson Lion captain.”

“Okay?”

“I owe you something in return.” He shook the ring box. “So I got you this.”

Nozel sighed. That… That made sense. More sense than where it looked like this was going. But it didn’t make this less embarrassing than it had been a moment before, even if Fuegoleon seemed to have no concept of how romantic he’d accidentally been.

“Are you going to take it…?”

“Yes, fine.” He picked the ring out of the box. It really was beautiful: expertly crafted, delicately detailed. And unlike the honey-yellow gem of the original ring, which it was certainly modeled after, this one was in a color that suited him. Fuegoleon really knew what looked good on him. He turned it around in his hands, his heart pounding in his fingertips. Then, before he could lose his grip on it, he slipped it on his finger.

He would have liked to think that he was doing more than appreciating the most romantic gift he’d ever received, but he couldn’t convince himself of it as he held out his hand, staring at the ring while Fuegoleon looked on. He sank against the Vermillion’s powerful legs and tried not to visibly swoon. How was someone supposed to beat this on purpose? How had Fuegoleon managed to pull this off on accident?

He shifted his magic toward it, hoping the fluttering of his heart would feel more appropriate if he was exercising some power. But his magic shifted past and around the ring without its notice: no drawing in, no gathering up. No more reaction to it than if he’d had a clod of dirt in his hand. 

His brow furrowed. Fuegoleon perked up under him, cocking his head to the side. “What’s wrong? You don’t like it?”

“It’s not magic.”

Alarm flashed across Fuegoleon’s face, there and gone so fast that Nozel wasn’t sure that he’d actually seen it. “Well, no, it’s not magic.”

All of his senses came crashing down on him. His heart shifted from a flutter to a pound. He pushed to his feet, using Fuegoleon’s chest for purchase and pushing a grunt out of him. He couldn’t be mad if he wanted to be, but indignation, he could easily fake. And he would. He needed the upper hand again. “I give you a powerful magical item that assures your place as magic knight captain--  _ six months after me _ \--and you hand me a sliver of metal with a rock on it?”

Fuegoleon’s face burned. He pushed himself to his feet and puffed his chest in a vehement show of artificial pride. “You know how difficult legally sanctioned magic items are to find! I tried!”

“Well,  _ I _ found one!”

Fuegoleon withered; his face twisted with reactive anger, but he was too wounded to fuel it. Nozel realized with a painful twinge of regret that his rival had taken his criticisms at face value. That wasn’t his intention; whatever the hell was going on here, he didn’t want to discourage it. He racked his brain for some sort of solution to this problem, and decided that the only thing to do was play his game. He sucked in a breath, grabbed Fuegoleon by the collar, and pulled him into a kiss.

Fuegoleon bristled for just a beat before he kissed him back. His hand found the Silva’s shoulder and he pulled him closer, shifting them both into an easier position to reach each other.

Nozel leaned closer, his lips parting as he drew him in. He reached up, finding his neck, and tilted his head as his tongue pressed past Fuegoleon’s lips. This was all starting to feel  _ very _ familiar, and he wasn’t surprised when Fuego eagerly chased him, reciprocating with ease. His head was spinning, and he set his other hand on Fuego’s hip, hoping he was steadier than him. He was solid, radiating heat that was pressing past a comfortable temperature, and took his touch as a sign to press farther against him. The two swayed, but didn’t let their imbalance slow the game their tongues were playing.

Nozel reluctantly pulled away when he needed to breathe. His face burned, and he couldn’t tell how much of it was his closeness to his rival, or everything else having to do with him. He blinked, drew in a slow breath, and regained his bearings. His hands were on Fuegoleon's neck and hip; Fuegoleon's were on his waist. His stance was steady; he was no longer swaying. His new silver ring felt warm and comfortable on his finger. He was lightheaded, but the right amount now; not with the cacophony of heat like it’d been when he was on the ground.

He pulled out of Fuegoleon’s hold, licked his lips, and met his rival's amethyst eyes. “Thank you. It doesn’t make us even, but it’s a good gift nonetheless.”

Fuegoleon stared back at him like a puppy waiting for a command. 

Nozel turned, and walking with a drunken swagger, started down the wood trail.

Feebly, Fuegoleon’s voice followed him to the edge of the clearing. “N-No homo?”

Something new bubbled in Nozel’s chest: warm, comfortable, filling the fiery pit of embarrassment with something better. “Fuegoleon.” He looked over his shoulder, a smug smile curling his lips. “It’s not gay to kiss the homies goodnight.”

He turned, and leaving Fuegoleon, slack-jawed, staring at this back, he left.

House Silva was quiet when he returned. It was a long walk from the hunting grounds, and having travelled on foot, Nozel reached his home well after dark. Still giddy, he wandered the halls and indulged in fantasy. The walk had allowed the chill to creep into his bones, and it made the stubborn heat in his cheeks all the more noticeable to him. He’d never be able to sleep like this. Better to put on an extra layer of clothes and wander all night.

He’d just settled upon the decision when he strolled past the music room. The light was on, and the door was open. Inside he saw Nebra, curled on the fainting couch with a book in her lap. It wasn’t uncommon to find her in such a state; she was a restless sleeper, and when she could sense that she wouldn’t sleep, she simply found something to do. 

Nozel stepped into the room, picked up the book, and lightly jostled her shoulder. She woke with a start, blinking until her vision cleared and then fixing him with a sleepy gaze. “Nozel? Are you back already? What time is it?”

“Late enough for you to go to bed. You fell asleep.”

Nebra brought a hand to her cheek and looked around. “Where is my book?”

With a roll of his eyes, he held out the collected tome. “Take it to bed with you. Get some sleep.”

She accepted it, abashed, and slowly got to her feet. Nozel guided her out of the room and to her bedroom; it was only a few doors down. He didn’t miss her eyes lingering on the new adornment to his finger, but it was not until they stopped in the doorway that she spoke up. “Brother, what is that?”

Nozel lifted his hand to examine the ring. In the clear light of the estate, the gem was a deep, clear blue, and completely flawless. Just the way he’d hoped it would look. He tilted his hand, appreciating the way the light bounced off its angled surface. “This?” His fingers curled, and he dropped his hand to his side. “This is my wedding ring.”

The sleep fled from Nebra’s face. Her eyes bugged wide.

“Goodnight, sister.”

“What? Wait! Nozel!” Her voice echoed down the hall as he made his retreat. “Wedding ring? To who? Who did you marry!?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> He then proceeded to gaslight Nebra so hard that she doubted ever seeing the ring.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed!


	5. The Forbidden Ending

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the elf invasion, Fuegoleon's ring gets noticed. Nozel is suffering.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, uh. This is the forbidden last part to this fanfic that I was never going to publish, but I have changed my mind, because it includes one very important canon non-compliant detail that is essential to the Boys Will Be Embarrassing timeline. It should be pretty obvious what that is.

_ Of course they’d like the egg trick. Of course. _

The dust had finally settled after the elf invasion. With enough time to recover, the humans and the elves that now shared their bodies had agreed to coexist. With a lack of leadership among the magic knights, the captains were slow to reorganize. Their people were accounted for; the kingdom was being pieced back together. Everything else that needed to be settled was condensed into one long, disorganized meeting, which not only involved the captains, but all members of the Royal Knights, Patri, and the elves now inhabiting any of those humans’ bodies.

It was, for all intents and purposes, a waste of time. Their goals were lofty for a single meeting of this nature, and with a dozen people all trying to take sole charge, things were messy. But the meeting concluded. And without anything officially being stated, their meeting dissolved into a party.

Nozel had half a mind to dip out early until the chefs started rolling out full entrees; then, he was hooked. As he piled roasted duck onto his plate, he watched Fuegoleon, surrounded on all sides by people. The elves were as fascinated by his return as the humans, and with less context for how he could have managed to come back from an amputation and a coma, they were demanding a lot of his attention. Fuegoleon and Salamander were not handling it well. Finding himself cornered, Fuegoleon had resorted to the only party trick he had: the Egg Trick. To Nozel, it was as embarrassing as it was endearing.

It had been a few weeks, and he had yet to have a proper conversation with his rival. Not that he held that against him; they’d all been busy, and no one had much time for casual conversation. He wouldn’t even push it here. Give the Crimson Lion King and his new spirit their thirty minutes of fame, whether he wanted them or not. Nozel knew where to find him when the excitement died down, and he would invite himself to House Vermillion, if no one would do it for him.

So Fuegoleon absorbing the attention of the room did nothing to rile him. On the contrary, he was curious too, and content to stand on the outer fringes with his dinner as Fuegoleon recited his egg boiling knowledge. He noticed others taking his same position on the topic: Meoroleona, hovering nearby with her own plate of food; Noelle, eating finger food in the closest corner of the room to Fuegoleon; most of the black bulls, clustered together in the corner of the room, whispering and jostling each other as they listened.

As Fuegoleon concluded his length drabble, he straightened, set down his eggs, and declared, “Really, the best part about this is that I lost my right arm. If I hadn’t, I wouldn’t have kept my wedding ring!”

Nozel choked.

Fuego’s audience reverberated with surprise. A moment of silent shock was all that buffeted the Vermillion from an assault of questions.

“Your  _ what _ now?”

“You’re married!?”

“Why wasn’t I invited to the wedding?”

Fuegoleon’s cheeks dusted pink, and his arms disappeared under his Crimson Lion robe, out of sight. “We, I uh… Well, I hadn’t yet properly met most of the captains…”

Yami Sukehiro, eager to stir the pot, made his voice high and outraged over the crowd. “You’ve been married for  _ years!?” _

Oh no.

The crowd was closing in on him. Fuegoleon couldn’t escape. Nozel looked down at his left hand, clutching a fork with a grip far too tight. On his ring finger shined his own-- damn his friends for catching on --wedding ring. Not yet spotted. Rarely acknowledged. Very damning.

The nobles were outraged. The elves were confused. The commoners were excited. Meoroleona grinned at the bloodbath. Noelle had never looked so confused in her life. The Black Bulls were paying  _ very _ close attention.

Jack the Ripper spoke up next, his voice slithering through the crowd like a snake. “His wife must be so ugly that he can’t bring her around!”

Fuegoleon whipped around to face him, his red face hardening in offense. “That’s not true! This ring signifies my bond to the most beautiful person in this kingdom!”

All the heat in Nozel’s body rushed to his head.

“Let us meet her then!” Yami cackled, clapping Jack on the shoulder. “Put your money where your mouth is!”

The room was in an uproar; everyone was picking a side. Meoroleona’s smile somehow got bigger as she prowled around the outskirts of the crowd, either looking for the best vantage point or trying to catch her brother’s rapidly shifting gaze. Fuegoleon didn’t seem to know where to look. His purple eyes bounced from person to person with such haste that Nozel thought he must be dizzy, until they met with his own, locked for an eternally long moment, and then shifted away. He straightened, his expression growing stony again, and his mana flared. The fire of his arm erupted from under his cloak, and Salamander, hovering stoically by the wall, rose. “That’s enough!” the fire mage boomed.

The descending crowd reeled, scrambling away from the broiling heat and growing dead silent. A hush fell over the room.

Nozel set his fork on his plate, shifted his left hand behind him, and edged toward the beverage table. He grabbed a bottle of wine.

“I cannot expose my partner.”

Silence.

The cork was still in it. He formed a corkscrew out of mercury, drilled it into the bottle, and with a dose of reinforcement magic, wretched it out. 

“Our relationship is… a secret.”

A shocked gasp rippled through the crowd.

The dull  _ pop _ of the uncorked bottle only drew one pair of eyes. Nozel made direct eye contact with his baby sister as he brought the bottle to his lips, tipped it back, and chugged it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you see it? You should have, it's not subtle! In this timeline, elves stay!
> 
> Obviously this is not my most polished chapter, but I hope you enjoyed!


End file.
